Love of my life

Her feelings

"I won't, I won't, I won't!" a gentle, almost feeble voice was resonating through the mahogany furniture of that small but cozy bedroom, ingulfed in the pitch black darkness of the night. Gentle rays of moonlight illuminated the trees that could be seen from the small window to the left side of the bed, making their shadows slither on the walls or on the bed sheets like snakes. One of those snakes of light ran slowly and silently across the silhouette of the woman that was wrapped tightly inside those sheets, shivering a bit for the cold air. Slowly, almost creepily, the ray of light revealed her features, almost caressing them, and lightly touched her pale blue eyes, which turned silver meeting it, as though recognizing a long lost relative. Some tears were shining at the corner of those eyes, making them stand out even more. Her lips parted in a sobbing sigh, as a tear met them. Feeling her tears starting to run down on her cheeks, the woman curled up in a fatal position. Patrick wasn't the only one who was confused that night; he wasn't the only one troubled by his feelings. Soon, Vera's sobs made her bosom tremble in despair, as her tears damped her brunette hair, turning it almost black. Her wounds still hurt her, yes, but something else was bothering her: her growing feelings for that man. She had felt something touching him while reaching for the sugar that afternoon, something that had made her tremble internally, something she'd felt when she met Renn for the first time, but that now wasn't feeling anymore. She was afraid of it, now that her husband had betrayed her faith in him in such a brutal way, now that she didn't want to trust men anymore. Upon meeting Patrick, she immediately thought how handsome he was. Only a blind could not see it. But she didn't feel any attraction, nor love. No matter how handsome he was, she didn't know him, and thus, she didn't feel the urge to kiss him, let alone betray her husband for him. Her husband that had been such for nine years, and that she loved with her whole heart. Until that faithful night, yesterday. Conflicting feelings filled her mind: betrayed love, disgust, hurt, confusion, despair, and an overwhelming sense of uselessness. Her husband had treated her like she was only a doll to play with, the other night, not caring about her desires, not caring for her pain. He had never done that. He had always had some raging fits before, but he'd never hurt her, not even by accident. And the other night, he had done it on purpose, to show her who was the boss, to show her who her owner was. Him, not that pretty boy, HIM. She didn't know why he was so angry; she didn't know why he envied him so much. She was sure he didn't have any feelings for her, and even if he had, she didn't. Until this afternoon. She didn't, until she had brushed her arm against his to reach out for the sugar. Then she'd noticed. But she couldn't, she simply couldn't give in to the budding feelings she had for him. As much as she hated her husband now, she was still married to him, and she didn't want to be humiliated, used again. Patrick seemed nice, but she couldn't let him take advantage of her. And besides, how could a man so gorgeous be interested in her? Her? She knew she was beautiful, men kept telling her all the time, but the fact that a man that breathtaking could be interested in her was impossible. He simply couldn't. He already had an absolutely gorgeous wife, with whom she couldn't compete, and she shouldn't. The only feelings he might have for her were perhaps only desires of the flesh, and she couldn't welcome them. Better keep her budding feelings for herself. After all, it was only a few months' work, and then they could call it a wrap. Then, she would never see him again, and that was fine. That HAD to be fine. Her cry of guilt and sorrow lolled her like a lullaby, and she fell asleep. "I won't give in to him." Were the only words her lips uttered, before her silver eyes closed.

But then her confusion arose again the next morning, when they had to go and visit Lorraine's museum. She had just woken up, put on her favourite red blouse, matched with black trousers. Since yesterday, when her intimate parts had been teared apart by her husband, some blood had started to pour out of it. She knew she needed to be taken care of, but she couldn't let anyone know of it, not anyone from the crew, at least. As soon as she'd return home, she would call the hospital. But for now, she had to play the part of the happy and carefree woman, and she knew how to do it. As soon as she stepped into the kitchen to have some breakfast, she spotted Patrick, sitting on a chair facing the door, drinking coffee. He almost gagged on it, as his gaze fell on her. Putting down his cup as he coughed a bit, he gave her an endearing, sweet smile, his eyes sleepy but depicting happiness, nevertheless. She smiled back and went to serve herself some milk. His gaze didn't leave her for the whole day. As soon as she met his eyes, he smiled. But she could bet she had surprised him looking at her nape more than ones. Perhaps he noticed? As he'd read her thoughts, as they'd finished exploring the museum, Patrick approached her. She beamed at him.

"Vera... Hello! It was an interesting visit, wasn't it?" he said, walking towards her in a casual fashion, hands in his pockets.

"Yes, it was! That doll, it was creepy, oh my!"

"It was." He said, stopping in front of her.

They remained like that for several seconds, not knowing who had to start to speak first, and what to say.

Patrick cleared his throat. "Vera... Is... Is something bothering you? Troubling you?" he asked hesitantly.

Vera's eyes filled with fear. Just for a second, but it was enough for Patrick to notice it.

"What? Why are you asking me this?"

Patrick remained immobile for a second, as though trying to figure out how to tell her. Then, hesitantly, he lifted his right arm. The gaze full of fear that followed his gesture was for him unbearable to watch. Her beautiful blue eyes polluted with fear was a sight too painful for him. His finger was trembling by the time he pointed at her nape.

"Who? Who did that to you? I noticed that mark yesterday, as though of a bite, who did that to you?"

Vera's breath caught in her throat, as she began to tremble a little, but just for a fleeting second, before she composed herself again.

"Oh... I... I... How did you notice it?" she said, with the steadiest voice someone could manage through fear.

"I noticed it yesterday, when you pushed your hair to the side. Who did this to you?" he asked again, a bit more sternly, as the thought of someone hurting her made his blood boil in his veins "do you need help getting rid of them?"

"What?" asked her, almost incredulous.

"Do... Do you need to be protected from someone? Are you all right?"

"I... I... Yes, I'm fine." She said, convincingly.

He said nothing, he only approached her, slowly, until he was so close their bodies almost touched. Vera fell her head spin. He knew it. He noticed it. And now, he was close to her, so close he could do anything. No words could describe her fear in that moment. Her heart was pounding so much her chest ached, she felt no air in her lungs, and her body was menacing to faint in any second. She watched as his hand reached for something in his jacket, letting out a tissue, and a bottle of water from the pouch he was carrying. She inhaled some air, finding again a stable rhythm, as he poured some water in the tissue.

"May I?" he asked, serious and concerned.

Vera nodded, slowly, and he turned her gently around, and slowly applied the tissue on her wound. She flinched from the pain, but he continued to apply some pressure, until he had cleaned all the wound from the dry blood that had formed, and that she couldn't have seen, nor reached. She heard him scoff a breath of anger, as he examined the mark: two teeth had dug in it, and a purple bruise had formed. She then felt his fingertips massaging gently the bruise spot, and she felt her breathing relax, calming down.

"I'm sorry." She heard his voice say.

He went to look at her again, and she could see sorrow in his eyes, almost like he was about to cry.

"I'm sorry. I had to clean it. It's better, now."

But she knew he didn't say he was sorry for cleaning the wound, he was sorry that someone had hurt her. Her eyes filled with gratitude, as she smiled gently at him. He smiled back, as though it was contagious.

"Hey, guys, do you want some lunch?" Mark's voice brought them back to reality. That was the day Patrick knew he would go to hell and back if she'd only asked him, and Vera knew she could trust him.